when you find yourself
standing,
on the corner
of somewhere and desloate

holding a sheaf of sunbeams
whilst humming hopeful
show tunes
with a small nonedescript
black dog(you call bozo)
on a leash, lying belly up,
submisssive, at your side

that is when you have found
where recovery resides.

and when you know
way down in the abyss
inside
that you are looking at
a new way of being,
not necessarily
rose-tinted seeing.

and in that knowledge
you find the honesty
to decry...
that while, you be,
both living and visiting,
on the sunnyside.

that tho, somedays are fine,
some saltmine hard
and some too hard
to define....

despite all that
too-ing and fro-ing
all those tendril thoughts
and clouded over dark days
all the whispering
and bargaining fey things
your internal filmaker brings
to bear,
on the walls of your sanity
you will come through
with sunbeams glowing...

that is when you know...
....recovery
is the key to the lock
on a house...
                 in a suburb....
that does not have streets
named....

somewhere and desolate....